The Plot-twisted Hunger Games
by Thalion Estel
Summary: Everyone expected the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games to be like those of previous years. However, when the course of the Games is altered by random plot twists, there can be no knowing what will happen next. Different languages? An ancient hero? The Force? And that is just the beginning! A very silly two-shot crackfic that resulted from a group writing game.
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its settings.**

 **Author's Note: Hello, all! This is the result of an amazing writing game which my family has unoriginally dubbed "The Plot Twist Game". Just so you'll understand why this fic is crazy, I will briefly state the way the game works. Don't worry; it's easy. All you do is start your prompt (off a picture or just randomly), and someone draws a slip of paper from a bag containing lots of plot twists. They select the writer they want the plot twist they drew to go to, and then that writer must incorporate the plot twist into their story. You end up with lots of plot twists, and the hilarity increases as you go. It's SO much fun, and this story is the result of my family playing The Plot Twist Game at our Easter gathering a while back. Remember, this is extremely silly! The plot twists I received will be listed chronologically at the end in case you're interested. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review!**

 **. . .**

The Plot-twisted Hunger Games

The suite where we'll be staying is more elegant and rich than anything I've ever seen. But considering the circumstances, I don't really take it in or give it much credit. As soon as dinner is over, I head to my room and, well, pout.

I keep up this pouty routine all throughout the days of training, refusing to acknowledge pretty much everyone. The interview with Caesar Flickerman goes by well enough, but even with my training score of eleven, I am not very optimistic. Yet I try to just think about survival and nothing else, and so it is that when I am lifted into the Arena, I have no emotion.

"Let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!" Claudius' voice booms through the Arena. The gong sounds, and we're off.

I rush towards a backpack and encounter the boy from District 9. He looks at me and screams, "Adios, Senorita!" as a knife slams into his back. I am quite confused by his statement, but I dodge a knife from Clove and rush into the woods without further thought. I am only a few yards into the trees when I crash into Peeta.

"Mellon nîn?" he asks, his expression full of confusion.

"What?" I inquire, cocking my head at his nonsense. "Aren't you going to team up with the Careers? And why are you speaking some unintelligible language?"

Peeta gives me a why-would-I-team-up-with-the-Careers-you-idiot look, but all he says is more rambling in the same unknown language.

"Attention, tributes," Claudius says over the loud speaker. "You will notice that all of you no longer speak the same language. You will not be able to resume normal communication until twelve tributes are dead."

So this has all been a ploy of the Gamemakers! Peeta seems to have understood the broadcast—did we all hear it differently, I wonder?—and we both just nod and start jogging away from the Cornucopia without further attempts at discussion.

As we go, my mind wanders, and I am confronted with a terrible thought. How do I know that I'm really in the Arena? What if the Capitol has me hooked up to a machine and this is all in my mind? What if _all_ of reality isn't really real? What if _I'm_ not real?

"How do we know this is real?" I ask worriedly, pulling to a halt and staring at Peeta, hoping for an answer.

"I don't know," he answers with a shrug. Twelve kids must have died, I realize. "But who cares?"

"Me!" I shout, exasperated and afraid of the truth. If there _is_ any truth. Oh no!

Before we can continue the vital conversation, a figure suddenly appears out of the bushes to our right. He's not a tribute; in fact, he's middle aged with a strange uniform and a beard to match. I can't even guess what district he's from, and since he isn't supposed to be here, I wonder if we are expected to kill him. Will he kill us? But really, do any of us exist at all?

"Good day, children!" he calls to us, a grin on his face.

"Who are you?" Peeta asks, thrusting out a sword that I didn't even know he had.

"Thomas Jackson," the man replies. "You might know me as General Stonewall Jackson, though. But where am I, and where are my men?"

Neither Peeta nor I respond, and Stonewall seems impatient, like his "men" are in danger or something. He finally rolls his eyes, sighs, and waves his hand mystically in front of himself.

"You will tell me where I am and what is going on," he says to me. I suddenly _must_ respond, though I have no idea why.

"You're in the Hunger Games," I answer stupidly. Why would I tell him that? It was never my intention to say anything!

He does the same hand-wavy-thingy again, and I find myself explaining the Games. Stonewall listens to all I tell him in silence until at last he nods his head as though he has come to a decision.

"We should go; if these "Careers" are near, we would do well to get away while I consider what to do."

"What do you mean?" I demand, suddenly very offended by his uncaring statement. "I am not a child! You can't tell me what to do!" Stonewall raises an eyebrow and does the hand-wavy-thingy.

"Stop arguing and follow me," he commands. I stop arguing and follow, though I have no idea why. I hear him mumble something about a "Force" being more useful than he thought, but since I don't know what he's talking about, I don't really think about it. All I know is that he's offensive, but I have to not argue and follow.

"We must follow Jack; go forward, not back!" Peeta declares with a dumb smile. "We will rhyme as we walk; make poems, not talk!"

Suddenly we all stop as a tiny purring sound fills the air. A small, furry creature appears in a tree, and I grab it without thinking. It has a tranquilizing effect on my nervous system, which is curious, but very nice. I begin stroking it, and we move on.

"A small tribble is so cute," Peeta chirps. "A better pet than a bandicoot!" This comment deeply offends me, for it undermines who I am as person, but I say nothing. After all, if it undermines me but I don't exist, who really cares?

My tribble multiplies rapidly as we go. Soon Peeta, Stonewall, and I have our arms full of the purring creatures. What could the Gamemakers want us to have these for? Do they make for a good dinner? But who would want to eat on these little guys? I wish I could send one home to Prim . . . if Prim and these tribbles and I really exist, that is.

Finally, after several hours of walking, it becomes obvious that these tribbles are, in fact, quite dangerous. It's not that they will actively harm us, but since they keep breeding and we can't carry all the babies, there is a trail of tribbles leading all the way back to the place where I first dropped one. The Careers could easily follow the line and run straight into us, and even if I don't exist, I don't want my nonexistence self to die.

"If we leave tribbles, they will come," I whisper angstily. I am not sure why, but I feel the need to let the others know all my thoughts via whispers. "I don't want the Careers to find us," I continue to whisper. "I don't want to dieeeee…"

"Dying would certainly not be fun," Peeta affirms. "I'd don't want to be gone and done."

I glare at his horribly insulting affront to my intelligence. "How could you dare to say that?" I hiss, still in a whisper. "That's just cruel! Why do you have to act like that all the time? Why does everyone always find something wrong with me?"

Stonewall lets out a sigh of annoyance and Peeta cocks his head. "Why do girls always whine?" Peeta asks the general. "It's all they do, all the time!"

"That doesn't rhyme!" I screech. "Do you think I'm an idiot? You're an idiot!" Then, in a whisper, I add, "I think they all think I'm an idiot."

"Okay: why do girls always whine; they won't accept that my poetry's fine!" Peeta huffs in frustration.

This seems to finally make Stonewall snap. He turns, glares daggers at both of us, and then waves his hand in front of us. "You will stop this pointless bickering!"

"But what about the trail of tribbles?" I ask.

"And no complaining, either!" Stonewall adds. But he does seem to see the sense in my point, and with a flick of his wrist, all the tribbles in the vicinity suddenly go flying in all directions. I let out a scream and try to grab the nearest one, not wanting to lose my friends, but also glad that the trail is now gone.

"I must save my tribbles," I whisper, stooping to pick up one of the purring balls. But Stonewall performs the same trick, and the tribble zooms off as if thrown. "My little Billy," I mourn in a whisper. "I can't go on without you."

"But go on we must," Peeta reminds me, "or else Cato will a sword through us thrust!"

"How dare you infer that I can't defend myself!" I yell, starting a bird and causing Stonewall to grip his sword hilt before he realizes it's just me. I take a threatening step towards the offending party and raise a fist. "I am going to punch out your brains," I whisper. "You chauvinist!"

But before I can go through with my intentions, a strange sound and blue glow stop me short. Stonewall is standing a few feet from me, grasping a weird, glowing sword that makes funny sounds as he swings it. "Shut your mouth and let's go," he instructs through gritted teeth. "Thanks to you, probably every person within a hundred miles knows our location."

"I wish I was at home," I whisper in a defeated sob. Everyone's comments are so offensive, and on top of that, I don't even know if I exist. "How can I know anything?" I weep quietly as I fall in line behind Peeta and Stonewall. "Why do I want to know if I know?"

And so we go on, me whispering my thoughts, Stonewall leading us as he sees fit, and Peeta trying to comfort me with poems that I detest. So it is that when he suddenly crumples to the ground, I'm overjoyed.

"Finally," I whisper gladly.

"What have you done now?" Stonewall inquires with a sigh, turning to face me with a look of exasperation.

"Stop insulting me!" I squeal. "It's not _my_ fault!"

Stonewall brushes past me and kneels beside Peeta, checking the boy's pulse. "He's fine," the general confirms. "As a matter of fact, I believe he's just asleep." With that, he gives Peeta's shoulder a shove, and the said boy rouses.

"Why did you disturb my sleep?" Peeta demands, yawning. "I had just succeeded in counting sheep!"

"I hate you," I whisper maliciously under my breath. But before Peeta can respond, he suddenly drops his head limply and snores. Stonewall lets out a very frustrated groan and lightly kicks the sleeping form.

"Oh, let him sleep," I beg in a whisper. "Maybe we can leave him behind."

"I really need a good nap," Peeta declares. "And Katniss needs a good slap!" he adds with a childish grin. I reward his meanness by issuing a slap of my own.

"You jerk!" I whisper. "My life stinks!"

I get no pleasure out of his reaction, though. He falls back to sleep without even registering my blow. Stonewall gives up on waking Peeta, and instead he uses the same unseen force and lifts Peeta off the ground, causing the boy to hover ahead of us. And so we continue, sometimes with Peeta awake and walking with us and sometimes with him hovering asleep.

"I hate hiking," I whisper to myself. "If only I knew that I was really hiking instead of being, you know, nonexistent."

Stonewall stops in his tracks, as if hearing my comments for the first time. "Young lady," he says with surprising gentleness, "if you doubt, then there must be someone to doubt. Therefore, you exist. You think, and therefore you _are_."

It all clicks, and a huge burden eases from my heart. "Now I get it," I whisper to myself. I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier! "I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier," I whisper. Stonewall proceeds to roll his eyes, probably for the hundredth time today, and sits down, letting Peeta's sleeping form flop to the ground.

"We will rest here," he declares.

"I now see that it is dark," I whisper as I too sit down. "I wish to sleep."

"Then please do so!" the general pleads as much as allows. "Sleep as long as you can!"

I am too tired to feel the full load of offense that his comment carries, but just before I drift off, I do catch another annoying word against me from Peeta.

"If she sleeps for some time, perhaps I can teach you to rhyme!"

. . .

 **So, what'd ya think? Please leave me a review! The second half of this tale shall be posted very soon. If you like this story, be sure to check out the tale that came about at my family's Christmas celebration, an Avengers fic entitled "Attack of the Plot Twists". Here are all the plot twists I received up until this point in the narrative, and if anyone out there would like me to send them the original list of all 40 plot twists which can be used to play the game, PM me; I'd be glad to pass on this amazing game!**

 **Everyone begins speaking different languages**

 **Your main character questions his/her existence**

 **A great hero from history suddenly appears**

 **A character of your choice learns the ways of the Force**

 **A character takes every statement as a personal insult**

 **A character suddenly aspires to be a poet**

 **Tribbles enter the story**

 **Your main character begins a whisper-commentary of all their thoughts and deeds**

 **A character keeps falling asleep at odd times**


	2. Part 2

**Author's Note: So sorry it took longer than I would have hoped to get the second part posted! I've been sick, and thus it's has been tough to find motivation to work on the story. But at last, here it is. I would REALLY appreciate some feedback; please be sure to leave me a review! I hope you enjoy the end of this silly story.**

 **. . .**

I wake up refreshed in one sense and frightened in another. I am refreshed in that I feel like my mind has been cleared a little after all the insanity of yesterday. Perhaps all those comments weren't really as insulting as I had thought. I briefly wonder if the Gamemakers had a hand in my previous sensitivity. The insertion of my tracker did make me feel a little queasy. But before I can whisper my thoughts on the subject, the frightening aspect of my new situation steals away my breath. I can hear the Careers close at hand.

"Here come Cato, Clove, and Glimmer!" Peeta shouts. "They are faster than us, stronger, and even trimmer!" He then proceeds to fall asleep, snoring loudly.

"I hate him," I whisper to myself as I stand and grope around for a bow and arrows I don't have. But as it turns out, I don't need them. Stonewall alone has enough power to win this battle single-handed.

The Careers break through the brush and charge us. Stonewall immediately flicks his wrist and sends both Glimmer and the girl from 4 flying back into the bushes. The remaining Careers hesitate, and Stonewall sucks a hilt into his hand with an invisible force and presses a button, shooting a small, blue beam out of the device. This must be his glowing sword I saw yesterday.

"I _want_ it," I whisper quietly. No one notices me.

"Stop!" the general commands in a loud, authoritative voice. "Do none of you see the foolishness of your actions? How could you play along, and even support what this oppressive government, this so-called 'Capitol' commands? They ask you to commit murder! Do you not have a set of morals?"

"Uh, no," Clove answers before flinging her knife straight towards Stonewall. Moving his hand, he sends an unseen and unfelt wind out, which slams the weapon harmlessly into the dirt.

"I can aid you all in a fight to end this sick form of oppression known as the 'Hunger Games'," the general offers. "But I need some cooperation."

"How can you do anything to help the districts?" Cato inquires, looking by his expression to be considering the proposal. "You're just one person. And you're not even a tribute! How did you even get _in_ here?"

"Wouldn't we all like to know?" I whisper to myself. Again, no one notices.

"That is not the point," Stonewall says. "But I will show you what power I have."

Stonewall makes some hand motions, his face straining as if he is lifting a great weight. Then, when I am just questioning both his sanity and my own, all the trees in a twenty yard radius rip out of the ground and fly high into the air, crashing and burning when they hit the force field high above.

"Okay, I'm in," Cato says, changing to a nonthreatening stance, "but can I please kill her first?" He points the tip of his sword in my direction.

"Me?" I whisper in surprise. "But I'm the girl on fire! I'm so cool, and I have a sister to care for! That makes all my actions justified and my life most important!"

Cato rolls his eyes. "I have seven brothers and eleven sisters. My dad died last year, my mom is an invalid, and all my siblings are either injured or little." He takes in a shaky breath as the music of a harmonica fills the air. "I had two jobs from the day I turned five. I used to rush home every day just to put a few coins into my mother's hand. Then came the sad news. Little Herman needed an operation. We had no money in the house, so I volunteered for the Games. I knew that if I won, perhaps my little brother could walk again. And maybe, just maybe, I could give those hungry, little mouths some food for a change. If there's anything left over after I pay for all that, I can get my siblings an education so that they can become model citizens. I am as family-oriented as anyone could be."

"You're a rotten liar," Peeta comments, rising from his most recent slumber. "Your tales don't fool me, be they played on the lute or lyre."

"Shut up!" Cato yells. "Okay, fine. The truth is that stupid Katniss cheated and got a better training score than me, and it's not fair! I am the best, and I want to prove it!"

"You two are actually very alike," Peeta said before starting and looking up, as if considering his own statement. "In fact, you guys look as similar as a nail and a spike!"

Then it all makes sense. That's why Cato had seemed familiar before! That's why mom had always said she didn't like to think of District 2! That why we look the same, except our eyes, hair, facial features, physical builds, and all other basic attributes. We're related! Suddenly it all clicks. He must be my _brother_.

"Sis?" he asks, taking a hesitant step closer.

"We even think on the same page," I whisper.

He runs forward and we hug, a sight which, a few seconds ago, would have been the most outlandish picture I could have conjured in my mind. Now, it feels very nice and familial. Hopefully our newly discovered family ties will dissuade him from killing me.

"That's all very nice," says an irate Clove, "but what about taking down the Capitol?"

"The Capitol has stood too long," Peeta agrees. "We will show them who is really strong."

"But how can we do that?" I whisper to myself. Cato notices and gives my shoulder a pat. What a loving brother! "What a loving brother," I mumble, though this time even he doesn't hear me. "Drat."

"Now that we have formed an alliance," Stonewall says, "it's time we get back to what you call the 'Cornucopia'. Everyone stay still!"

The general draws as square in the air, and before I can prepare myself for anything, the dirt beneath us cuts away in the exact same shape that he drew. He then does his magic-thingy and lifts up our portion of the ground, which is very large, and hurtles us back towards the center of the arena.

"Wow, I feel like I'm in the sky!" Peeta happily declares. "I believe I can fly!"

"You are flying, idiot," Glimmer snaps as she climbs out from one of the bushes she's been lying in for like ten minutes.

"Idiot is not a nice name," Peeta scolds. "If I wanted to use insults, you'd be fair game."

"What does he mean?" I whisper to myself, wondering if Peeta has been making up insults in his mind this whole time. But Cato pats my head and I feel better. What a nice brother!

"I love flying," I whisper as the ground we're on begins to slow above what I presume is the Cornucopia. "I love commentating, too."

"Shut up, stupid," Glimmer shouts, throwing some grass at me. My brother valiantly blocks the projectiles while Peeta lets open the flood gates.

"You fat rat! You bored Ford! You bog dog! You stork orc! You curd turd! You lead Red! You bleep sheep! You bloat goat! You District One booger-bun!"

The last one sends Glimmer into tears, and while Marvel tries to comfort her and Peeta falls asleep, Stonewall begins to initiate his plan. First, he raises his hand and does a chocking motion, pointing his gesture at the nearest visible camera. The intercom that broadcasts things around the arena turns on, but all that comes out is coughing noises. Then it turns off and the general grins at us.

"That should leave us unhindered for a while. Now; I will use the Cornucopia to smash through the force field, so everyone stand back."

With a swooping motion, Stonewall uproots the Cornucopia and rapidly brings it up to our level. I gasp as I realize that it is covered and filled with little, purring tribbles.

"Don't!" I gasp. "They're only tribbles!"

The general sighs, shakes his hand back and forth, and waits. The Cornucopia copies his movement and all the tribbles fall to the ground. Only now to I think that perhaps they will die after falling such a distance, but the sound and feeling of the Cornucopia's impact keeps me from grieving. The Cornucopia shatters as it hits the force field, and unfortunately, the field remains intact.

"Blast!" grumbles Stonewall. "Now I have to do this manually!"

Using his force powers, the general brings our square of land right up to the top of the force field. He then activates his saber of light and begins cutting a long streak across the field, moving us as a whole to make the process faster. To make myself distracted from the boringness of the next five minutes, I find a surviving tribble and stroke its soft fur. It multiplies, I give a baby to Cato, and he names his Bobby when I name mine Bob. We're the best siblings ever!

"Tribbles, light sabers, and moving ground. That's plenty of strangeness to go around!" Peeta loudly says. No one cares.

At last, Stonewall has cut a massive hole in the force field, and the broken portion falls through into the arena, squishing any remaining tribbles. I cry out in horror and begin whispering about how much I loved the little darlings. Cato tries to comfort me. Glimmer and Marvel start throwing grass and leaves at each other. Clove and the girl from District 4 place bets on who will fall off our floating square of land first. Peeta makes rhymes about us all. Stonewall appears on the edge of a frustration breakdown, but he keeps himself composed, mumbling something about ignorant teenagers, as our little patch of land rises into the sky and begins flying through the air.

We soon arrive in the Capitol, a destination I previously knew nothing about. "Hey! Why in the world did you brings us here?" I demand.

"Yeah," Cato says, taking my side like a good brother. "Do you want to get us all killed?"

"Idiots," Glimmer whines.

"Stupid," Marvel chimes in.

"I'm hungry," the girl from 4 states.

"I like rhyming," Peeta says in a sing-song voice. "It's fun when you have perfect timing."

"Be quiet; all of you!" Stonewall yells, moving his hand nonchalantly in front of himself like when I first met him. We are all suddenly very quiet.

The general then proceeds to enact a display of power the likes of which none of us have ever previously seen or imagined. The Capitol, of course, launches about ten thousand missiles straight towards us. Stonewall easily uses his forcey-thing to turn the weapons around, sending them straight into the Capitol's military arsenal. The said arsenal explodes very dramatically, and when he is satisfied, the general moves on. He scans the city, locates the airport where all the hovercrafts remain on the air strips and begins an attack. He throws the hovercrafts into each other, smashes buildings, and creates avalanches. Again, he spares no expense, making a scene that causes all of us to gape for several minutes.

"Where does the Capitol manufacture its weapons?" Stonewall asks, turning to face us for the first time in a while.

"Nobody tell him!" Clove yells before any one has opened a mouth.

"District Two; got it," the general deduces with a mischievous glint in his eye. Clove throws five knives, and Stonewall deflects them all. "Don't worry, young lady," he assures in his strangely calm voice. "I don't believe in harming civilians during a war, even if the other side isn't so scrupulous."

Getting rhyming directions from Peeta and dodging the occasional blade from Clove, the general pilots our floating land to District 2. By the time we get there, the square is covered in several inches of tribbles, all purring cutely. All the Careers except Cato begin hacking the poor fur balls to shreds, but since I have no weapon, all I can do is cry about it while Cato tries to break up the violence.

"My little babies," I whine quietly. It's not use, though; no one ever listens to me. "No one ever listens to me," I whisper to myself. My statement is proven true.

"The weapons are in a mountain cave," Peeta tells Stonewall, pointing to the said mountain. "But with your power, it will soon be a grave!"

The general nods and goes to work. First, he uses his forcey-thing to rip the top of the mountain off and toss it away. Then he brings about the same scene of destruction as he did in the Capitol, and we all watch in astonishment except Peeta, who has fallen asleep. When the dust clears, Stonewall turns around and smiles towards us.

"Well, that's done. I guess the districts are probably capable of taking this from here," he says, pausing as if to wait for some thanks. He doesn't get any, though I suppose he deserves it.

"I'm hungry," the girl from 4 sobs.

"Idiot," grumbles Glimmer.

" _You're_ an idiot," a frustrated Marvel retorts.

"Figures; dumb District One," Clove jabs.

"I want to go home," I whisper.

"How much fur could a purring tribble purr if a purring tribble could purr fur?" Cato asks very seriously and philosophically.

"I am bored of making up verse," Peeta yawns. "But I can't stop; it is my curse!"

"That's _it_!" Stonewall yells, seeming to have finally snapped. "I cannot handle another second of your ridiculous teenage drama!" He then moves his hand across his face and speaks commandingly. "You will all fall asleep until tomorrow."

We all fall asleep, though I don't recall why I want to do so.

When I awake, I am in District 12. My mother and Prim find me and relay a whole bunch of information that is frankly quite a lot to take in. Apparently Stonewall's attacks saved the day, and the districts are in charge of Panem now. Cato is here, and he's currently working to create the first ever tribble farm where my family will soon live. Peeta is already busy making ballads about baking, and the other tributes were all returned home by the general before he suddenly vanished into his own time. So it's all going to be okay. But I don't really pay much attention to the future; once Prim hands me a tribble, I just pet it and let out a sigh. I am content.

That is, until I realize that I have no proof that I really did let out a sigh and am content. In fact, how do I know I exist at all? Couldn't the Capitol just be making me think that the districts got control as part of a dream or simulation?

Uh oh.

 **. . .**

 **Well, there you have it. As before, I would be more than happy to send you a list of 40 plot twists in case you'd like to play this hilarious game with your friends sometime. It is so much fun, believe me. I only used one additional plot twist in the second part, and I will include it below at the end of my list of plot twists used in the story. I hope you enjoyed the story's conclusion! PLEASE let me know what you thought in a review! And be sure to follow me; more fics are on the way.**

 **1\. Everyone begins speaking different languages**

 **2\. Your main character questions his/her existence**

 **3\. A great hero from history suddenly appears**

 **4\. A character of your choice learns the ways of the Force**

 **5\. A character takes every statement as a personal insult**

 **6\. A character suddenly aspires to be a poet**

 **7\. Tribbles enter the story**

 **8\. Your main character begins a whisper-commentary of all their thoughts and deeds**

 **9\. A character keeps falling asleep at odd times**

 **10\. Two characters realize that they are long-lost siblings**


End file.
